Chapter 7

"You rutting bastard!" howled Gerald, drawing his sword and charging forward. "I'll kill you for this, so help me God!"

Lucien calmly reached out and caught the earl's elbow before he could decapitate his youngest brother. "Now, now, Somerfield, if you feel compelled to kill him, please do so outside. Bloodstains are so hard to get off a new floor, you know." He gazed down at the hapless pair, his angry sibling flat on his back, stark naked, and covered only by Celsie's petticoats. Not to mention her partially clothed body. "Besides, I am sure that my brother has a perfectly reasonable explanation . . ." He gave a maddening little smile. "Don't you, Andrew?"

"Damn right I do!" snarled Andrew, hooking a finger around a damp lock of Celsie's hair that webbed his face and glaring up at the intruders from beneath her prone body.

"I, for one, would like to hear it," said Lucien mildly.

"She drank the damned solution!"

"What solution?" thundered Somerfield.

Lucien came forward, retrieved the blanket from the floor, and tossed it over the couple. "My brother here devised an aphrodisiac," he explained conversationally, as though such discoveries were commonplace amongst English inventors. He crossed his arms and looked down at his brother, a faint smirk playing about his mouth. "Really, Andrew, you disappoint me. I would have thought you had more sense than to test such a . . . dangerous composition on a pretty young woman."

"I didn't test it, she asked to try it!"

Lucien shrugged. "Well then, I would have thought you had more sense than to say yes."

"What do you mean, she asked to try it?" raged Somerfield. "How dare you accuse my innocent young sister of such vulgarity!"

Andrew met the other man's glare with hard eyes. "I daresay your sister is no longer innocent, and I must wonder, indeed, whether she ever was."

Somerfield's cheeks mottled with outrage, and at that moment, Celsie finally raised her head. Pushing herself up on one hand, she blinked and looked weakly around her, her expression one of confusion and slowly dawning horror. "Good heavens . . . what happened?"

"You ravished me," snapped Andrew.

"I what?"

"I said, you bloody well ravished me."

"You'll die for that accusation, de Montforte!" howled Somerfield, advancing with drawn sword.

The duke sighed and casually snared the earl's sleeve once again. "Given the circumstances, Somerfield, I do think it wise to retreat to the library so that you may calm down, and our young lovers here can recover both their wits and their dignity. Andrew? If you and Lady Celsiana would meet us downstairs in a quarter of an hour, I'm sure that reasonable satisfaction can be had for all parties involved."

"I daresay that reasonable satisfaction has already been had by at least one of them!" roared Somerfield, glaring pointedly at Andrew.

"Really? Well, it wasn't me, I can tell you that much."

Somerfield went for his sword yet again, and this time Lucien's eyes lost their amused glint as he seized the earl's arm once more. "Really, Somerfield, you are beginning to annoy me. It would benefit us all if you would demonstrate a little self-restraint. Now come along. I trust that some cognac will steady you and allow you to address this matter in a mature and rational way."

Steering the hot-tempered earl from the room, he strode toward the door, and it was only as he crossed the threshold and paused to look back over his shoulder, one brow raised and a faint smile on his lips, that Andrew caught the telltale gleam of satisfaction in those fathomless black eyes.

And then he was gone.

"Bastard," Andrew muttered beneath his breath — and in that moment, he would have wagered everything he owned that Lucien was — in some way, for some reason — behind this entire debacle.

~~~~

The "mature and rational" way that Lucien suggested, once Andrew and an upset, embarrassed, and very, very angry Celsie were seated in the library, was an immediate marriage.

Lucien gazed thoughtfully at the pair, sitting as far apart from each other as the placement of chairs would allow, neither looking at the other, both quietly furious. "Regardless of the circumstances that led to the act, Andrew, there is no denying that you have ruined the girl," he said, pouring another glass of cognac and handing it to his now fully clad brother. Andrew adamantly refused to take the glass and sat staring mutely out the window, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing as Lucien continued. "You have robbed her of her virginity, her innocence, and any chances of making a successful marriage. Therefore, I think you owe it to her to do the right thing."

Andrew leaped to his feet. "I will not marry her!"

"And I will not marry him!" cried Celsie, also leaping to her feet.

"Sit down, both of you," said the duke, irritably. "Lord save us, you'd think I just sentenced the two of you to the gallows, the way you're carrying on."

"I said, I am not marrying her," Andrew repeated hotly.

"And I said, I am not marrying him!"

"Well, then," said Lucien, smiling and gazing calmly at the earl. "What do you suggest we do, Somerfield?"

"He ruined my sister! If he's any sort of a gentleman, he'll do the right thing!"

"I wasn't the one who told her to take the damned solution!"

"But you were the one who damn well invented it!"

Celsie could feel herself losing her already frayed control. "Gentlemen —"

"And you were the one who allowed her to take it!" Gerald continued.

"Gentlemen —" Celsie bit out, louder this time.

"And furthermore, you were the one who was lying stark naked beneath her," thundered Gerald, advancing on Andrew with fists clenched. "Your brother's right — your judgment is to be questioned, and so, by God, are your motives!"

Celsie slammed her own glass down. "Damn it, listen to you! The two of you go on as though I am invisible, as though I have no brain or will of my own, as though I'm nothing but a — but a — flea on a dog's ear!" She rounded on her brother. "Gerald, I told you before and I shall tell you again, I was the one who asked Lord Andrew to give me the solution. I was the one who doubted its efficacy. I was the one who attacked him, and I am the one who is responsible for this . . . this mess, and I will not have you forcing us into some ill-advised union when it is obvious that Andrew has no more wish to marry me, than I do to marry him!"

"And what if you're with child?" shouted Gerald.

"If I am with child, that's my responsibility, not Andrew's! He didn't ask for me to . . . to . . . ."

"Ravish him," finished the duke urbanely, topping up his glass.

"Damn you, Lucien!" exploded Andrew, as Celsie flushed crimson. "Must you be so damned crude?"

The duke merely smiled and lifted a brow. "My dear brother, I am merely repeating the words you used earlier."

"Did I ravish you?" demanded Celsie, her insides clenching.

Now it was Andrew's turn to go red. "Don't tell me you don't remember."

"I don't remember a thing except opening my eyes to find myself — "

"On top of him," finished the duke, smoothly.

"Curse it, Lucien!"

Celsie was trembling with mortification. "Thank you, Your Grace, for stating the matter so succinctly," she ground out.

Blackheath merely inclined his head and lifted his glass to her as Celsie turned angry, desperate eyes on Andrew. She saw his own gaze soften, momentarily, before he looked away, his jaw hard. He was as much a victim of this entire debacle as she was. He had warned her not to imbibe the solution, had even tried to talk her out of it. But no. She had taken his warning as a challenge, and now look at what happened.

"Did I?" she demanded, anger and self-disgust making her voice brittle.

He cleared his throat. "Well, let us say that your manner was nothing short of predatory," he allowed.

"Did you resist?"

"Really, Celsie!" thundered Gerald.

"Did you?"

"Well, I did at first, but to be truthful, madam, you were rather . . . well, persuasive in your designs."

"Oh, dear God," she moaned, momentarily covering her face with her hands. Then, raising her head, she looked Andrew directly in the eye. "Well then, since it was your honor that was compromised, your body that was — was —"

"Ravished," supplied Lucien, helpfully.

"Ravished," fumed Celsie, eyes flashing, "then I think that you ought to decide what should be done."

"This is highly irregular!" stormed Gerald, his complexion mottling. "Really, Celsie, I have never heard of anything so preposterous in my life!"

"Be quiet, Gerald. After all, I was the one who coerced Lord Andrew into giving me the solution, so therefore, it is up to me to deal with the consequences."

"I thought you said you didn't remember what happened!"

"Well, I remember that much!"

"Regardless, he was the one who deflowered you!"

"Maybe I deflowered him!"

"Highly unlikely," interrupted the duke, idly studying his cognac. "I daresay Andrew lost his virginity long ago." He smiled and slanted a benignly innocent grin at his brother. "Is that not right, Andrew?"

Celsie saw Andrew turn and glare out the window once more, his eyes like flint.

"So you see, my dear? That settles that."

"That settles nothing," Celsie snapped. "Lord Andrew? What are your wishes in this matter?"

"I have already stated them. With all due respect, madam, I have no need or wish for a wife. Indeed, I would prefer to forget this matter ever happened and simply get on with my life."

"Well then, as I also have no need or wish for a husband, I daresay we are of like mind, and I, too, would prefer to forget it ever happened. Please take me home, Gerald. I find that I am developing quite a headache."

The duke sipped his cognac. "Really, my dear, that's an excuse you should have used an hour ago." He turned to his brother, eyes gleaming. "I beg your pardon. Perhaps you should have used it, Andrew."

Celsie thought — hoped — that Andrew was going to kill the duke right then and there. He shot to his feet, his face darkening, his fists clenching at his sides. "The lady has stated her wishes, I have stated mine, and I am leaving."

"So am I," snapped Celsie, also rising.

"But what about my brother's compromised honor?" asked Lucien, raising an innocent brow. "It would be most embarrassing if word got out that he was attacked by a woman and did not enjoy it."

"I never said I didn't enjoy it," Andrew ground out.

"Oh. Well then, that changes things immensely, doesn't it? As you are of superior strength to the lady, and did nothing to defend yourself from her — what did you say? — ah yes, persuasive designs upon you, then I daresay we can conclude, after all, that you are as much responsible for this predicament as she is. I really think that one of you, at least, should offer marriage."

Celsie had had enough. She strode angrily up to the duke of Blackheath, who remained sprawled negligently in his chair, an amused little smile playing about his mouth as he looked up at her.

"You seem to be rather hard of hearing, Your Grace," she said tersely. "I have already told you that I have no wish to get married."

"And you, my dear, seem to be ignorant of the gravity of this situation. Perhaps if you explain why the idea of marriage to a handsome young man like my brother here is so revolting, I will suddenly find my hearing quite restored."

"Because marriage doesn't suit me, that's why."

The duke was back to examining his cognac. "Ah, yes. I seem to recall that the last two fellows you tried to marry expired under rather extraordinary circumstances, the former, if I remember correctly, by choking on a pea. Hmm. Perhaps marriage doesn't suit your prospective bridegrooms, my dear."

"Only one of them expired," said Celsie icily. "But even so, we wouldn't want your poor brother here succumbing to the Jinx."

"Rubbish," said Lucien, smiling. "He is a de Montforte. 'Twill take more than a pea to do him in." He looked at Andrew. "Surely, you are not afraid of being done in by a pea, are you, Andrew?"

"Why the devil should I be afraid of being done in by a goddamned pea when three drops of my solution seem to have done the trick well enough?"

"Ah, but surely it is not as bad as all that. You do not find the lady wanting, do you? She is quite lovely," the duke murmured, lifting his glass to Celsie. "She has spirit, intelligence, and enough money to finance any disastrous little experiments you should choose to . . . test in the future. Truly, I cannot see what the problem is."

"The problem is, I do not need some female interfering with my time, my work, my schedule, my life. I do not have time for a wife, and I do not want the responsibility of having to look after one."

"Ah, but you should have thought of that before you allowed her to take the solution. Now, you may find yourself facing the responsibility of looking after a child. Would you want any son or daughter from this union to be born a bastard, Andrew, simply because you are too stubborn, foolish, and proud to do the right thing?"

Celsie slammed her hand down atop a small table. "Stop harassing him! It is obvious that he has no wish to get married, and I will say once and for all that I don't want to get married, either!"

"Ah. Do you find him wanting, then?" asked the duke, smoothly.

"That is not the point! And I have had enough of this absurd conversation. Gerald, I demand that you take me home. Now."

"Celsie —"

"Now. Before I grow even angrier than I already am."

Gerald put down his glass, but his jaw was rigid, his eyes glittering with fury. "Very well then, Celsie. If you will await me in the carriage, I will join you as soon as I have concluded my business here."

She rose to her feet. The gentlemen did as well. Then, with a short curtsey to the duke, Celsie turned and marched from the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

"That settles it, then," said Andrew.

Somerfield put down his glass. "That settles nothing, de Montforte."

Even Lucien, still casually ensconced in his chair, lifted his brows.

"The fact remains that you have dishonored my sister and ruined her beyond repair. If she will not accept restitution, then I demand it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My second will be calling upon you this afternoon. I will see you tomorrow at dawn, sir — where the two of us will settle this matter like men. Good day."